


Are You Experienced

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-13
Updated: 2006-01-13
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Draco Malfoy is well-versed in all things sexual.  Really.  He swears.





	Are You Experienced

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for SMSchrader for [Smutty Claus 2004](http://www.livejournal.com/community/smutty_claus) het fic exchange. Just a bit of fumbly teenage first time sex. **Warnings:** Wanking.  


* * *

Detention was always such a bore. A _tiring_ bore, at that. 

Draco slumped in a chair in McGonagall's classroom, too tired to even grumble about the injustices of being sentenced to clean out transfigured bird cages (former gold chalices), while Potter got away scot-free. He knew it was because everyone tiptoed around His Royal Boyness's 'fragile psyche', but it had always been Draco's job to remind Potter of his place. Just because everyone else was worried about their boy hero didn't mean Draco had to be. 

So, of course they had fought, and of course McGonagall -- the old _bat_ \-- caught him mid-hex. Pansy had told him earlier -- before he left for this loathsome manual labour -- that he'd been found out on a tip from Granger. Predictable, that. 

No wonder Potter had escaped unscathed; the little Mudblood bitch must have timed things perfectly. The entire world was against Draco. 

All twenty-eight of the blasted cages were clean, though; not a feather or smear of bird excrement remained, and Draco, exhausted, managed to wash up (as though he could have gone two minutes with that...smell clinging to his robes, and his _hair_. Dear Lord, no.), but hadn't yet worked up the energy to shuffle back to the Slytherin dorms. His arse felt glued to the seat. 

He swallowed hard, letting his head loll forward as he brought up a hand to massage the back of his neck. This was the kind of day that would be noted in Draco Malfoy's Journal of Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days. As soon as he could get up. 

Getting up. 

He was standing. 

Really. 

Draco took a deep breath, and gave up, sliding even further down in his seat, kicking the desk forward, then propping his feet up on the wooden surface as he rolled his neck, hearing it crack unpleasantly. Letting his eyes slide shut, he let his head hang back, and as his body relaxed, his mind wandered to the first pleasant thing it could think of. 

Sex. 

What? Draco was sixteen. Really, he knew damned well that everything at his age was about sex. 

He thought of the very clear look he'd got down Lisa Turpin's blouse in Herbology, making him grateful for the very first time since the year had started that he'd opted to continue with the useless course. Hannah Abbott's skirt had flipped up when she sat down in Charms, leaving Abbott mortified, and Draco thinking that her pink knickers held more charm than anything Flitwick had ever taught. Then, of course, there was that perfectly shaped arse he'd admired through most of Defence Against the Dark Arts -- it was funny how almost no one ever picked up on a quill that had been charmed to fall off a desk over and over again. He felt his prick twitch in his trousers as an Evil Idea began to take shape. 

Wanking in McGonagall's classroom? Seemed like small revenge for twenty-eight bloody bird cages. 

He shrugged, his decision already made as his hands tugged at little clasps that held his robes together, letting the garment fall open. Draco eagerly undid his flies, taking little time to pull open the top button, and drag down the zip. He wriggled a bit, pushing trousers and pants down lower on his hips, so he might more easily grab his cock, already straining for contact. 

Draco sighed, and closed his eyes, quickly licking his hand before firmly gripping the base, stroking up and down, slowly at first, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb slid over the tip, spreading the drop of pre-come that had already formed there over his sensitised flesh. Idly, he wondered what it'd be like to hold Turpin's breasts in his hands. Would they be heavy? Would her nipples get hard as Draco's fingers brushed over them, or would he need to use his mouth to get her to moan for him? This wasn't to say that Draco was wondering what it would be like to hold any breasts at all because Draco Malfoy was Experienced. Of course. 

The thought of seeing Turpin's top off quickly turned into seeing Abbott the same way, still in her skirt, those tempting pink bloomers available for Draco to examine thoroughly, to touch. He groaned, picturing her blonde pigtails -- pigtails that normally annoyed him because girls his age weren't meant to wear their hair that way, but that worked so well for his fantasy. God, he could almost feel himself buried inside her. It'd probably be warm, and wet, and she'd sigh his name because Draco would be simply That Good. 

Experienced. Honestly! 

His hand began to move a bit faster as a soft gasp escaped parted lips. His mind had just started to wander to his favourite fantasy, when he heard another soft gasp follow his own -- a gasp that was most certainly _not_ his. His blood instantly ran cold, and Draco searched all around the classroom, spotting nothing. 

Agitated, he shouted, "Who's there?" 

The creak of a wooden floorboard sent Draco's head swivelling in another direction. "Pervert! I can hear you!" 

With his free hand, Draco snatched up his wand, hastily setting a locking spell on the door. The handle rattled, though he couldn't see anyone there. An Invisibility Cloak, or a chameleon spell, obviously. He was torn between getting up, despite his dishevelled state and foiling the unwelcome intruder, or staying right where he was, and protecting his most precious bits; being a Slytherin, he opted to stay put. A distinctly panicked, distinctly female squeak came from the direction of the door, and still grasping his cock, lamenting his flagging erection, Draco said, "I'm not letting you out of here, until I know who you are!" 

"Oh, honestly," said an exasperated voice, making Draco's blood -- if possible -- run even colder. 

Draco closed his eyes, resisting the urge to rub the bridge of his nose because one hand was still wrapped around his base, the other covering his crotch protectively. "I can't believe this is happening." 

"Let me out, Malfoy," Granger said primly, pulling the Invisibility Cloak from her bushy head. Lord, with the static cling, her hair had grown three sizes that day. Draco pulled a face, his sneer only growing more pronounced as Granger insisted on prattling on. "I'll report you. Really! Wan-- doing _that_ in an unlocked classroom! Professor McGonagall won't let you off with a single detention this time." 

"Go right ahead, Mudblood snitch!" he hissed, raising his head defiantly. "I'd love to see the look on the bag's face as you explain this to her." 

Granger stilled then, and Draco smirked, feeling triumphant, despite the slight embarrassment he felt over being so rudely interrupted. "It's not proper," she said after a long pause. 

"Are you the morality police? Who are you to say what is, and what isn't proper? I'd say you watching me wank while underneath an Invisibility Cloak isn't exactly proper either, but there you are." 

"I didn't come in here to watch you wank! McGonagall ordered that you clean those cages without magic. I was on patrol tonight, and I wanted to make sure you weren't cheating," replied Granger, nose still in the air. 

Draco looked at her sceptically. "And, once you determined that I wasn't, you stuck around for the after show." 

Granger turned away, shaking the doorknob desperately. "Let me out," she said again, using a carefully neutral tone. 

"Let yourself out," Draco retorted, thin membrane of patience gone. "It's just a stupid locking charm. And do close the door on your way out; I have business to attend to." He glanced down at his hands covering his crotch, then back up at Granger, who looked thoroughly disgusted. 

"If you must know, I've left my wand in the dormitory. So, you'll have to do it yourself." Granger somehow managed to not even blush at this admission of stupidity. Honestly, Draco would have thought someone supposedly as smart as her wouldn't go around forgetting her wand in this political climate; her intelligence must have been greatly exaggerated. He felt rather vindicated, actually. 

Sighing, Draco tucked himself back in, realising it wasn't anything she hadn't already seen and liked, and stood with great effort, aiming his wand at the door. " _Alohomora_." 

Looking relieved, -- though because Draco was no longer half-naked, or because she'd get to scarper, Draco wasn't sure -- Granger turned the knob, and pushed. 

Nothing. 

Draco made a face, then tried the spell again. 

Again, nothing. 

"Fie! Away, foul Mudblood!" said Draco, flicking his hands outward as though he was shooing a bug. The comparison seemed apropos. 

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "Let me try." She lunged for his hand. 

"Granger, get your hands off my wand." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Draco regretted saying them. They sounded nearly...suggestive. Also, it threw him off enough that Granger was able to easily pluck the wand from his hand. 

She pointed the wand at the door, casting the unlocking spell, then tried again. 

Nothing. 

"You must have cast the spell wrong," Granger said, glaring darkly at him. 

Draco glared back. " _You_ must have been getting off on my Adonis-like form, causing me to panic, and cast a slightly off, though still obviously powerful, locking charm. Don't try blaming this on me!" Her hand still gripped his wand possessively. Draco felt mad enough to spit. 

Granger looked angry. Angry, and prudish. "I wasn't the one masturbating in a classroom!" 

"You weren't supposed to see it!" Draco snatched his wand back, wiping the handle on his trouser leg. He'd just had these laundered, too. Now he'd have to burn them. 

"I suppose we're stuck here." Granger looked like her puppy had just been murdered. Gryffindors were such drama queens. 

Sniffing, Draco made his way back to his seat, slumping down again. "S'pose so." Granger gawked at him from the doorway. 

So, this was what happened when you got caught wanking. Draco would have preferred going blind. 

***

"How long do you think we'll be stuck here?" 

"I suppose someone will find us in the morning. Now, shut up, Granger, I'm meditating." 

***

_Growl._

"Didn't you eat before you came here?" 

"Yes, but then I cleaned _twenty-eight_ transfigured bird cages, and had half of a wank. That takes a lot out of a person, and I'm a growing boy." 

"Could have fooled me." 

"..." 

***

"Do you have any cards, or anything with you?" 

"Yes, I always take a passel of various amusements along with me to solitary detention." 

"You really love hearing your own voice, don't you?" 

"Don't you? You seem to be asking enough questions." 

"I simply thought...never mind. I'll find something to read; Professor McGonagall has the most varied collection of Transfiguration journals of any academic mind in the Western Hemisphere." 

" _Fascinating._ " 

***

"I'm hungry, tired, and sexually frustrated, and it's all your fault. My father will be hearing about this." 

"Is that the father in Azkaban?" 

"Don't you _dare_ talk about him that way." 

"Ah. So you have two fathers, then." 

"Granger..." 

"Quiet. I'm reading." 

***

"What's it like?" Granger asked suddenly, looking up from her book. Draco snapped his head up, incensed that she dare wake him from his nap. 

"What's _what_ like?" He didn't bother keeping the peevish tone from his voice. 

Granger closed her book with an audible snap, laying it down next to her spot on the floor. "Wanking." She paused, considering. "Well, having a... a _penis_ and wanking. I know what it feels like for--" Clapping one hand over her mouth, Granger looked mortified. 

Draco's eyebrows flew up. "I don't think you're allowed to look embarrassed after asking me that. To answer your question, I don't know. It feels good...really good." 

"Have you ever had sex?" 

"Of course!" replied Draco automatically, voice climbing to a squeak. He cleared his throat. "I'm a _Malfoy_." 

"Mmm," she said neutrally. "It's good you were able to overcome those insurmountable odds, then." 

Lord. Was Granger...flirting? Gryffindors had no tact at all. Draco rose from his seat, walking over to her place on the floor, and sat down beside her. It wasn't as though he had anything better going on, and if she _insisted_ on blathering on... 

"Don't talk about my family that way." 

"What way? You brought them up." 

Draco was silent for a moment, then shrugged. Perhaps he would get up again; Granger was boring him. 

"I've never had sex," Granger offered, not sounding proud or ashamed of this fact. In fact, she sounded rather clinical about the whole thing. Draco thought it must be very tedious to have her for a friend. Hell, she was pretty uninteresting as far as enemies went, too. "I'm not sure why, exactly. Never had an opportunity, I suppose." 

He was about to retort, really he was. Something like, _Well, you're the last of your breed, Sasquatch,_ or _the male Gryffindors are smarter than I would have thought_ or _Would you like a Virginity Medal?_ , but then she spoke again, and all coherent thought was wiped away in a heartbeat. 

Granger tilted her head, eyeing him critically. "Would you have sex with me?" 

"Wh-- what?" Damn it. He should have bit his tongue; now she'd know she'd got him off guard. 

"Sex. With me. Here, I suppose. It's not like we're doing anything else, I know all the contraception spells, and --" Here, she showed off the appropriate page in the book she was reading. "-- I've just learnt how to transfigure a blouse into a blanket." Granger's hands moved to her shirt, unbuttoning the top two buttons. 

Draco skittered away, eyes wide. "What the hell are you doing, Granger?" 

"It's just sex, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes. "You've done it already, I want to. Yes or no?" 

"Yes," blurted Draco instantly. Sixteen year old boy! He shouldn't be judged! 

"Oh, my." Granger looked faintly amused. "I would have expected more protest about me getting my filthy Mudblood hands all over your pristine Malfoy cock." 

...Fuck. Hermione Granger had just said cock. Had just said cock to _him_. It took him more than a few seconds to recover from his flustered mindset. 

"Shut up," he said finally, "and get over here before I change my mind." 

Granger smiled that faint smile again, infuriating Draco further (and, he was loath to admit, making his prick jump within the confines of his trousers again), and quickly straddled Draco's hips as she cast a barrier spell on them both. Draco whimpered. 

Looking at Draco with the same detached interest she would her Potions ingredients, Granger placed her hands on either side of Draco's face and bent down, capturing his lips in a kiss. She tasted of peppermint, he noted, his tongue darting out to lick her lips. Granger's mouth opened on a moan, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, groaning softly as it slid against another slick, rough tongue. Encouraged, he tentatively pressed one of his hands to the back of her neck, pulling her forward as the kiss grew more insistent. This was familiar, at least, Draco thought in relief. 

Because this was all familiar. Because Draco had done All of This before. Of _course_. 

Granger broke away, hands returning to the buttons on her blouse, pulling the shirt from her shoulders, and exposing a light blue, lacy bra. Swallowing hard, Draco stared at the slope of her breasts, the way the lace cups separated them, making them look soft, and round, and -- and -- so fucking attractive that he could already feel his cock pressing against his zip. That half of a wank wasn't really going to go far in helping him keep his composure. 

"Hold on a moment," Granger said in a voice so thick with promise that his first instinct was to rub his prick against her leg. God, he was so hard this was bordering on embarrassment. Against his best efforts, Draco felt his cheeks flush. 

Granger had his wand -- the literal one, not figurative -- as she changed her top into a thick white blanket, which she spread out on the floor. In an instant, she had climbed off of his lap, making him groan with loss, only to spread herself out on the floor, making him groan for another reason entirely. 

Draco joined her a moment later, settling his narrow hips between her legs. In a completely confident and not at all nervous way, his fingers fumbled over her the cloth covering her breasts, wanting to take off the offending lingerie, but not knowing how-- er, having technical issues. Laughing in a very kind manner, Hermione reached up and flicked her hand somewhere between the lace prison, making the bra fall open. 

"Gr-- Granger," Draco started, staring down at her naked chest, "I think I should tell you something." Fuck, he wanted to suck every inch of her smooth, soft skin. 

"What is it?" She didn't sound exasperated, or even very clinical now. Breathless. Yes. 

"I...I lied. I've never...never done anything like this." He couldn't tear his eyes away from her nipples. 

Granger laughed, making her breasts shake a bit. Fuck. "That's all right, Mal...Draco. If the cavemen could do it, I'm sure we'll figure it out. Let's just do what feels...good." 

Nodding, Draco felt the wind knocked out of him as Hermione flipped them both, leaving him flat on his back. She straddled his hips again, eliciting a long, agonized groan from his lips, then scooted up just enough to bend over his body. "I think I would like to feel your mouth on my breasts." 

Her words were bound to be his end, he was sure of it. Not trusting his own voice, Draco firmly moved his hands up her sides, pulling her close to suck her nipple into his mouth. He sucked firmly, noticing how the skin of her nipple felt paper-thin, thinner than any other part of her breast, or any other skin he'd come in contact with before, until he started flicking his tongue against the skin, then sucking gently, alternating that way as the skin stiffened into a hard peak. 

Hermione was moaning above him, hands flat on the floor in front of them, pressing her hips against his, rocking against his erection. "Draco," she whimpered, name sounding foreign on her lips. "Let's...I think you should...I wish to feel you inside me." 

"All right," he said, looking up from her breast, feeling completely lost. Luckily for him, Hermione seemed willing to do all of the work, hands moving to the front of his shirt to undo every button, then to his fly, where he breathed a sigh of relief when his cock was given a bit of room to breathe. Draco sat up, shrugging the shirt from his shoulders, then with Hermione's help, toed off his shoes and shimmied out of his trousers, and pants. 

Hermione stood then, confusing Draco, until she lifted her skirt, exposing pale blue knickers, -- and really, wasn't pale blue a far better colour than clichéd _pink_? -- and hooked her thumbs into the sides, sliding them down her thighs, past her knees and calves, stepping out of them to leave her shoes, socks, and skirt in place. 

As Hermione straddled him again, scratchy wool of her skirt rubbing against his stomach, Draco was finally convinced that Hermione Granger was a Genius. 

She guided his hands between her legs, both of them gripping his cock -- _oh God, oh God_ \-- as she guided the head to her hot, wet entrance. "Do you want me to go slow?" he asked, feeling a little panicked. Biting on her lower lip, and wincing, Hermione nodded. Draco mimicked the action mechanically, grey eyes wide as she slipped down just a little. 

_Fuck_. 

Just that little bit was threatening to break his already weak resolve. There was no way he was going to last, and he could think of Quidditch all he wanted, but that wasn't going to stop Hermione from being so wet and warm. Draco placed both hands on her hips, pulling her down a little more, then a little more, before they had to stop and breathe. 

"All right?" they both asked in unison. Draco nodded vigorously, Hermione looked thoughtful, but nodded, too. 

"Go ahead, Draco," Hermione said a little breathlessly. "Push." 

Draco, couldn't _not_ obey, and thrust _up_ as Hermione pushed _down_ , finally seating herself fully, completely on Draco's cock. 

"Fuck," Draco gasped, stilling for a moment, since Hermione was quiescent, clenching and unclenching completely wonderful, completely unexpected muscles surrounding Draco's prick. Finally, he asked, whimpering far more than was proper, "Can we move?" 

Hermione nodded, laying both hands flush against Draco's chest as she began to move, pulling Draco in and out of that delicious heat, that slick warmth over and over, pace increasing with every firm rock of her hips. Desperately, Draco arched up, trying to meet her frantic movements as his arousal spiralled higher with the movement of her body. Biting his lower lip, he made the mistake of looking at her breasts again, pink nipples standing out in relief against pale, lightly freckled skin, and he shuddered. 

"Granger...Herm...Hermione, I-- I can't. I was already...you feel too good." Draco cried out again, his balls drawing up close to his body. 

Hermione laughed breathlessly, and only started to move faster. "Then come, Malfoy. We can always do it again." She leaned over, pressing their bodies flush together, breasts and hands and soft belly against his chest, and Hermione kissed him hard again, tongues tangling together as the promise of 'again' caused him to moan helplessly into her mouth. 

With a final shudder, he felt like he was coming for a hundred years, or just a second, surrounded by such warmth, such wetness that he couldn't help the hard grip he had on Hermione's hips, practically bruising as he arched again and again. 

When what he thought was the last aftershock passed, Draco dared open his eyes, only to find Hermione was looking down on him in a mixture of pleasure and pride, and for once, that look didn't bug the hell out of him. She clenched around his prick once more, drawing another anguished moan from Draco's mouth, before stretching up, dislodging him from her body. 

Draco eyed her face critically. "You didn't...did you?" Draco said, feeling more like a dunderhead about the human body than he ever had before. 

"No, not yet," Hermione laughed, rolling onto her back, and pulling Draco on top of her again, which made him laugh suddenly, too, "but I have all night to show you how it's done." He didn't protest as she pushed on the top of his head, urging him lower. 

Education was certainly important, he thought as he began licking a path to her navel. Draco Malfoy had always said so, and one always listens to a man with Experience. 


End file.
